


Take My Heart With You

by lovelypinkskies



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, But for now nothing is sacred and everything hurts, Don't worry guys!!, Drama & Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, I promise, There will be fluff in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelypinkskies/pseuds/lovelypinkskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been three years since Symmetra last saw Junkrat. She’s done her best to put him out of her mind ever since they parted ways, and has succeeded for the most part. Now one of the most well-renowned architects not only at Vishkar, but worldwide, Symmetra has made quite a name for herself. But when Junkrat somehow hurtles back into her life just as abruptly as he left, she suddenly finds herself struggling to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s an ordinary Tuesday morning the next time she sees Jamison.

                Satya strides across Vishkar’s campus with a purpose, neatly organized and labelled binders clutched to her chest. The night before had been spent pouring over every last detail of her latest project, tweaking at every apparent imperfection she could find. There was a reason these kinds of assignments were handed off to her like gifts to a spoiled child, after all. Anything her bosses wanted done right, they made sure was done by her.

                And so that was why she had been made chief architect of _Elyseum_. No city like it has ever before been built; a vast, multi-tiered metropolis with no allegiance to any nation. It is, simply put, her greatest work yet. She’s on her way to present the finalized blueprints to her superiors, and she knows they’ll be impressed. The air is too hot for her blazer, a bold blue V emblazoned across the lapel, but she pays it no mind. There are far more pressing matters to focus on.

                “Miss Vaswani!” An eager voice calls from the distance. Satya stops in her tracks and blinks, turning her head towards the source of the noise. A man, shorter than her with a head of thinning white hair is running towards her. The set of keys fastened to his belt jingle with every step, and the closer he becomes the more apparent it is he’s completely out of breath. Satya can’t help the smile that lights up her face, or the slight laugh she lets out at the sight.

                “Professor Gupta,” She greets his warmly. The old man stops a few feet from her, one hand on his knee while the other wipes sweat from his brow. He’s panting, but manages to get out a few words in between.

                “I’m—I’m sorry, my dear,” He says. “I don’t mean to…to be a distraction on your way to the board.” Satya tilts her head and wonders what news could be so urgent.

                “It’s all right, Professor. Is something wrong?” Curiosity tinges her voice. Avinash Gupta had a reputation for being one of the most eccentric teachers at Vishkar Academy, but it was no secret that his various oddities masked genius beyond compare. So what, in his mind, could possibly be a valid excuse for perhaps making her late to this meeting? He had known her since she was a little child, a starving waif plucked from the streets to begin life anew at Vishkar. He had handpicked her _himself_. As much as Satya cared about her own success, Professor Gupta cared more. After all, he had more of a stake in it than she ever did.

                “Oh? Oh, oh no. No no no, of course not,” The professor waves his hands in the air emphatically. “Well, I _suppose_ that depends upon your definition of ‘something wrong.’” Satya feels her eyebrow quirk up at his response. This _can’t_ mean anything good.

                “Perhaps it would be best if you were to show me, Professor,” Satya steps towards him, intent on trying to solve this issue before the meeting. It was still another forty-five minutes away—she’d planned on being early, setting up the room and her presentation just perfect. Either way the board members would be happy with her work… but Satya wouldn’t be satisfied with herself unless everything was exactly the way she’d envisioned it.

                Gupta nods, blinking and muttering to himself about why he hadn’t thought of that before. He starts making his way back from where he came, motioning for Satya to follow him. She notices now that there seems to be a crowd of people moving with them, talking amongst themselves in hushed tones. If she strains her ears, she can almost make out what they’re saying.

                “—right into the _gates_ , can you believe it?”

                “I heard there was only one person—“

                “Do you think Overwatch knows anything about it?”

                She hears that name and nearly stops in her tracks, but instead quickens her pace as not to lose the shorter man amongst the thrall of people. Overwatch? Whatever was going on, it seemed they somehow had a hand in it. It was hard not to be surprised, but she had to admit to herself that she shouldn’t be. It had been years since she counted herself among their ranks, but the organization didn’t seem to suffer much in light of her absence. Every few weeks she’d see something about their exploits in the papers. Thwarting a terrorist attack, protecting those in need, holding the world together by a mere string… sometimes she almost missed it. Almost.

                “What is this all _about_?” She leans down by the professor’s ear so he can hear her. But before she can answer, she looks up to see they’ve arrived—

                --and suddenly her arms go limp, binders hit the ground with a _thud_ and papers fly away in the wind.

                Satya feels as though someone’s punched her in the chest, like all the air has disappeared and it’s impossible to breathe. A ship… a _drop_ ship has reduced Vishkar’s front gates to a crumpled mess of iron before her. The white and orange O emblazoned on the ship’s side tells no lies.

                “When—“ She must swallow the lump rising in her throat. She can’t let herself be rendered speechless. “When did this happen?”

                “Approximately thirty minutes ago,” Professor Gupta answers, looking up at her with understanding sympathy in his eyes. Half an hour ago would explain why she hadn’t heard a thing. She’d been in her workshop, ignorant to the events of the outside world thanks to the soundproof walls. “No one requested permission to land anywhere. Actually, we hadn’t heard so much as a peep from Overwatch prior to this. No one was expecting a visit.”

                Her brows furrow and her lips form a thin line. None of this sounded routine, not for Overwatch. The only possible answer she could muster was that they were under attack, that the only reason they’d crashed here was because they were _forced_ to. But then… even that didn’t make any sense. She casts her eyes up towards the sky, scouring the clouds for a possible attacker. It’s bright and blue and clear as crystal. And as far as she knows, Talon hasn’t mastered the art of cloaking technology yet. Not for gigantic ships, anyhow.

                “Do you know who was in it? Was anyone hurt? Were there… were there any casualties?” Names and faces flash through her mind. Tracer, Reinhardt, Roadhog, Zarya... the thought of any of them being seriously injured, or even possibly _dead_ , fills her stomach with lead. Being an agent of Overwatch is a dangerous job. They had all known that when they signed on. They all knew what was at stake. Satya has to remind herself of this, and even then it doesn’t make the prospect of their deaths any less horrifying.

                “Thankfully no one’s dead,” Gupta says. Relief floods through Satya’s veins. She opens her mouth to respond, but the professor continues before she can. “I can’t say the same for injuries, however. One of our scientists received some burns, a few close to the gates when the crash occurred have concussions. Nothing too serious. Oddly enough, there was only one person in the ship. Quite a tall fellow, too.”

                She breaks her gaze from the ship, staring at him with alarm. That doesn’t mean a thing, she tries to tell herself. That was an adjective that could describe a great many people, after all. Especially members of Overwatch. None of this means it could be exactly who she hopes it _isn’t_.

                “Tall?” She echoes. “Professor Gupta, what does this person look like?”

                “Oh, long face, I suppose,” He says, stroking his beard. “Blonde hair. Some poorly constructed prosthetics. Covered in soot. Looks like a wild man, if you ask me.” _Gods_. Satya rubs at her temples and suppresses her internal screams. No explanation in the entire world could be good enough for why Jamison had decided to quite literally knock down her front doors to see her again. That was why he was here, right? It had to be. She can’t even fathom why he’d desire to see her in the first place.

                Not after how they’d left each other last time.

                “I appreciate you showing this to me, Professor,” Satya says. She kneels to the ground and gathers her things, quickly flipping through the binders and making notes of which pages are missing. If she leaves now, perhaps she can grab the copies she needs and still make it to the meeting on time. “But you know as well as I do that my time with Overwatch is over. Whatever reason they have for being here, I’m sure they can contact me professionally without resorting to destroying Vishkar property. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.”

                She stands, smoothing out her skirt with one hand while holding her things in the other. She doesn’t have the time or energy to explain things to Gupta, and frankly she doesn’t really want to. That chapter in her life was now closed and she had absolutely no intentions of revisiting it.

                “Vaswani, Satya.” She turns on her heel and finds herself face to face with an Omnic with a blue V stamped directly on its forehead. Well, she’s certainly popular today. She tilts her head as she nods to address it.

                “Yes, that is me.”

                “You have a visitor, Ms. Vaswani. Follow me, if you please.”

***

                It’s no surprise they end up in Vishkar’s primary security building, waiting to be allowed access to the holding cell. Now it was certainly too late to attend the meeting, Satya thinks to herself, and questions why she hadn’t just ignored this whole situation and gone anyway. The annoyance bubbling inside of her is slowly turning to anger. Moving forward with the plans for Elyseum would be pushed back at least a week now, and for what? She’s sitting in the lobby next to the omnic, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles begin to go white.

               She’d worked so hard for this. And now… well, she knows if Jamison had to describe the situation, he’d say it had all gone ‘tits up.’ An expression she can’t help but just cringe at. And it’s not as if she cares a single bit about what he’d have to say in the first place. All of this is his fault, and now she has to bear the consequences for it.

                “You must be Vaswani,” A woman emerges from behind a door in the back of the room. Her attire almost looks like that of a regular police officer, except for the sewn-on V above her heart. Satya stands, giving a single nod and following the woman into the back. Quickly she realizes they’re not headed toward the holding cell, but the interrogation room.

                “Will this take very long?” She asks. The woman glances back at her with something of a scowl.

                “It will take however long it’s going to take,” The officer says. “This man—Junkrat or whoever he claims to be—refuses to speak to anyone but you. He’s responsible not only for the wanton destruction of our property, but the injuries of at least four other persons. All of this happened on Overwatch’s behalf until they claim otherwise. This could cause an international incident, Miss Vaswani. If you’re the only way we’re going to get to the bottom of any of this, so be it.”

                Satya grits her teeth, wishing she could tell this woman she has no more idea of what’s actually going on here than anyone else, but she knows it won’t help. Besides, if Jamison really told them she was the only one he’d talk to… then she supposes she really does have no choice.

_That settles it then. He’s here for you._

                Gods, how she wishes she could quash that voice in the back of her mind. Maybe she’d get lucky, maybe she’d only have enough time for a quick hello before someone else from Overwatch came to pick him up. Somehow, though, she doubts it.

                Soon enough they arrive at what must be a two-way mirror. The room before them is almost empty except for a table and two chairs, one of them occupied by a particularly lanky man. It takes Satya a moment to catch her breath when she sees him. Jamison.

                To her total lack of surprise, his hair still sticks up in every which direction and is singed at the edges. Spots of soot dot his face, and he still has that gleam in his eye she could only ever describe as wild. Any doubt she previously had about who her visitor could possibly be has now vanished in a puff of thin air.

                However, it does catch her inordinately off guard that he seems to be wearing a suit.

                It’s not a very well-kept suit. There are patches sewn into the coat, and even from where she stands she can tell it’s incredibly threadbare, just as sooty as the rest of him. He wears no shirt underneath, as apparent from the visible skin stretched tightly over muscle. A red tie hangs undone around his neck. Satya can’t help but shake her head. What does he think he’s doing? Who is he trying to impress? Does he really care that much about what she thinks, even now? And why would he wear a tie if he wasn’t even going to try and tie it?

                He looks ridiculous, she tells herself. Jamison slumps in his seat, obviously bored, whistling as he closely examines his prosthetic hand. How silly, she asserts in her mind. Thank god he was out of her life.

                Not anymore. She hopes he wasn’t planning on making this change permanent.

                “Ready?” The officer’s voice breaks Satya out of her reverie. She startles, but then catches herself and nods. All she has to do is figure out why he’s here. That’s it. And then she can tell him to go home and never see her again.

                “Yes,” She says. “I just want this over with.” The officer doesn’t say anything more and leads her into the interrogation room without ceremony. Before stepping inside, she must remind herself to breathe. To pray for her heart to stop hammering in her chest.

                “Oi, copper, I told you I ain’t sayin’ a damn thing till I see Sym—“

                Satya braces herself, clenches her fists at her sides and steps forward. Jamison’s attention shifts from the officer and almost immediately he stands up, chair crashing into the wall behind him. He steps forward and she stands her ground, refusing to grant him any softness in her gaze. His eyes, on the other hand, light up with some sort of sweet sadness she didn’t know was possible. He speaks and his voice is soft, almost resigned, how it was the last time they ever spoke. She hates the way it makes her almost miss him.

                “Symmetra.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat steals a ship to see Symmetra again. It doesn't go well.

It hasn’t taken Junkrat very long to figure out he doesn’t like Vishkar. If it wasn’t for how ungodly clean and proper everything was in this place, it would be for the stupid damned V’s they seemed to paste anywhere they felt like. Thus far at his time on the mega-corporation’s campus, he’s spotted at least fifty-seven. As if they didn’t already know what shit belonged to them.

He wrote his name on a bunch of his own crap too, but that was mostly to keep Torbjorn out of his things in the workshop. For some reason, he didn’t think Vishkar had the same problem.

It wasn’t until now, sitting in this cold metal room by himself, that Junkrat thinks maybe all of this wasn’t such a great idea. Last night it had seemed ace, and he’d even patted himself on the back for having such an incredible stroke of genius. He’d been gathered around the central table with the rest of the Overwatch agents at the meeting, taking his usual seat next to Roadhog.

“They better get this done quick,” He’d muttered to his larger friend. Roadhog said nothing but uttered a grunt he’d been pretty sure was in agreement. Last meeting had taken over two hours and all that got done was the bloody giant gorilla lecturing everyone that food fights in the cafeteria were expressly forbidden.  
Well, that one had been his own fault, but still.

So when he glanced up at the screen before him and was met by the elegant face of the woman he still loved, he almost fell out of his seat. Roadhog caught him before he could, and thankfully no one seemed to notice all that much. Junkrat hastily rubbed at his eyes before he stared again. He found he hadn’t forgotten a single detail of her face—not the way her cheekbones curved in so delicately, or the regal shape of her nose. It was only a picture, but still the soft brown of her eyes managed to burn a hole through him.

The beginnings of a smile tugged at his lips. Only Satya could have this kind of effect on him, even through a screen.

“For those of you who have never met her,” Winston’s voice rumbled through the room. “This is Satya Vaswani, or Symmetra, as she was known in our ranks. She’s an extremely adept architech and used her abilities to pull turrets and teleporters into being from pure light. Unfortunately she left us some years ago to return to the Vishkar Corporation, whom she’d worked for previously.”

Junkrat suppressed a snort. It was an understatement to say she’d worked for them. They’d owned her. They only ever let Overwatch have her on a loan, and the moment she started to dare for an inkling of real freedom they’d demanded her back. He had no idea what that must be like, to be so loyal to a damn company of all things. And it wasn’t even like she’d willingly sold her soul to them, either. Their claws were dug deep into her a long time ago. She’d been too young to even stand a fighting chance.

He should have known. He should have understood from the beginning that she could never really be his, not the way he was ever hers.

“What’s this all about, Winston?” Pharah asked, a few seats away from Junkrat. “Is she coming back?” Coming back? Junkrat perked up at the notion. If someone had asked him the day before, he would have said he never expected to see her again. Not with how disastrous their goodbyes had been. The gorilla sighed and paused for a moment, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“I wish I could say that with any sort of certainty,” Winston said. “We have all missed Symmetra in our own ways. When she left, we could afford to move forward without her. And as I’m sure all of you know… that is no longer the case.” A tense silence fell over the room. Junkrat glanced up at Roadhog, who just sat there silently and resembled something of a brick wall.

“So we need to recruit her again,” Soldier 76 chimed in. “You want one of us to go to Vishkar and tell them we need her more than they do.”

“Precisely,” Winston nodded. Junkrat bit at his lip, suddenly fidgety, bouncing in his chair like a small child who needed the bathroom. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and knew it was Roadhog, attempting to steady him. “I’ve been trying to decide who to nominate to go—"

“I’ll do it,” Junkrat said, nearly jumping out of his chair. Everything was quiet for a moment as the rest of the room stared at him, and then looked at each other in concern. He crossed his arms and frowned. “Oh, come on. All you whackers know I have personal history with her. It should be me.”

“Do you really think that’s the best idea, Jamison?” Mercy began. “I’m not sure if she’d be as happy to see you as you’d be to see her.” He stops and looks at her, wanting to snap back that of course she’d be happy, she’d be fucking overjoyed. But he knows she wouldn’t be, not really. Not after how everything had ended.

“I have to agree with Angela,” Winston said. “Junkrat, I know you want to see her again. But if you really care about her, you’ll let one of us do it. And maybe… keep your distance if she does come back.” He feels his face flush as he looks back and forth between the gorilla and the angel in total bewilderment. Who the hell did that ape think he was, questioning whether or not he cared for her?

“Whatever,” He muttered, stepping back from the table. “Fine. Just get her out from under those fuckers’ thumbs, hear me?” With that, Junkrat left the room, Roadhog close behind him.

***

“Can you believe those wowsers?” Junkrat leaned over the latest prototype of one of his bear traps, tightening the screws so that it would stop going off for no reason. Again, Roadhog sat beside him, a bowl of cereal dwarfed in one massive hand and a spoon in the other. His mask was partially pushed up, exposing his mouth as he took bite after bite of the sugary concoction in his bowl. “I mean—okay, maybe she won’t be ecstatic or nothing to see me, but I’m the obvious answer! I know her better than any of them do.”

Roadhog grunted in response.

“I know she’s still probably mad. I would be too, you know. But that can’t beat out all the good memories we have together, can it? After all, she took the necklace,” He looked back at his larger friend in time to see him gulping down the last remnants of milk and soggy cereal. “The one I made her, remember?”

Roadhog nodded, spilling some milk on his chest in the process.

“So she can’t hate me. I wouldn’t believe if she said she did. And if she’s coming back… buddy, I gotta get there first,” He paused, sitting back in his chair. “If they’re the ones who bring her back, she won’t talk to me for days. Weeks. She’ll avoid the hell out of me. You know how she is. But if I get there before they do, she’ll have to talk to me.”  
Roadhog took his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed lightly at his chest.

“That’s what I gotta do,” Junkrat set down his wrench and put his head in his hands, trying to think. “I’ll get there first, we’ll talk, she can get all her anger out at once and we can come back home. And she’ll be happy, I’ll be happy, and that gorilla will give me a fucking medal.” He stood, a wicked grin beginning to form on his face. He knew then what he had to do.

“Thanks for the talk, mate, you’re the best,” He gave Roadhog a slap on the back before racing out of the workshop in the direction of the docking bay as fast as his fake leg would let him. He knew this just had to be his best idea yet. Maybe Symmetra would be angry at first— hell, maybe she’d even slap him. And he’d let her. Gladly. Seeing her face again would be nothing short of completely worth it.

She’d come around in no time. He knew she would. She had to.

Halfway there, he stopped dead in his tracks. What, was he going to show up on Vishkar’s doorstep like this? In any other situation he’d say why the hell not, but this time… this time he had someone to impress. Junkrat turned back in the direction of his bunk, hoping he could remember where he’d put that damned old thing. He definitely couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever worn it.

***

And that was precisely how Junkrat ends up in this cramped room, bored out of his mind, waiting for something to happen. The problem, it turned out, was that he had absolutely no idea how to fly a ship. Getting it in the air had been easy enough, and even keeping it in the air wasn’t too hard. Landing it, however, had been a different story all together.

Almost immediately after his arrival, Junkrat was whisked away by two Omnics and thrown in here. He’d been berating by cops for about fifteen minutes, but his lips were sealed. They kept demanding to know if he’d stolen the drop ship, if Overwatch knew he was here, if he was a bloody terrorist. And he’d simply sat there with his arms crossed, refusing to utter a single word. Well, he said a few.

“I’m not sayin’ shit until you let me talk to Symmetra.”

“Symmetra?” The officers looked at each other, confusion splayed on their faces. With the roll of his eyes, Junkrat heaved a sigh.

“Satya. Satya Vaswani,” He couldn’t decide whether or not he should be surprised. Was everyone just trying to keep the time she’d spent at Overwatch swept under a rug or something? The officers paused and then spoke to each other in hushed tones. He pretended not to hear.

“Fine,” The woman said, rising from her seat. “We’ll get Vaswani for you. And then you’ll talk, right?” Junkrat nodded slowly with a pointed smirk, and then they left the room.

Good riddance. He wasn’t here to talk to anyone but Satya. Anything else was a pure waste of his time. The sooner he spoke to her, the sooner this whole mess could just be forgotten about—she had to have at least some sway in Vishkar, didn’t she? And sure, Winston would probably be pissed about the destruction of one of his drop ships… but it was worth it to get Symmetra back.

More than worth it, actually.

And so there he sits for the better part of half an hour. In an uncomfortable, scratchy suit no less. Junkrat is reminded why he doesn’t care much for wearing too many clothes. For the first few minutes he can’t help but bounce his legs to get out some of the nervous energy, but his legs are so long and the table is so short that the kneecap of his good leg keeps hitting the metal underside. So now his knee is bruised and he’s resorted to making faces in the mirror across from him. He’s not stupid, he knows they can see him from the other side, but maybe if he freaks them out it’ll get him to Symmetra faster.

More time passes. Junkrat can’t say exactly how much time, but from where he’s sitting it feels like an entire life’s worth. If he knew this was how long it was going to actually see Satya, maybe he would have stowed away on the drop ship instead of plain stealing it. It would have been less messy, too, but where’s the fun in that?  
He’s examining the rust on his prosthetic hand when he hears the doorknob jiggle. For a brief moment he’s hopeful and he tries to straighten out his suit jacket, fearing what Symmetra would say if she saw a wrinkle. But then it opens and in steps the woman officer from before, looking at him with contempt so sharp he could probably carve a steak with it. Again, he finds himself rolling his eyes.

“Oi, copper, I told you I ain’t sayin’ a damn thing till I see Sym—“

And then she appears. Satya Vaswani emerges from behind the door frame, and Junkrat feels as though he’s been sucker punched. God, the picture had done her no justice. Without her visor he can see her face—really see it, the angle of her jaw and the curve of her lips, those coppery-brown eyes that stare straight through him. Her hair, so dark that light seems to escape into it, is piled on top of her head with tendrils that hang down by her ears. She never wore it up much in her time at Overwatch, and now he has to wonder why. It’s marvelous.

He’s standing before he even realizes it. He tries to be as straight as possible, but it’s hard when his fake leg isn’t as long as the real one. Taking a step toward her, a realization hits him. How on earth did he forget how small she seemed? Small, but her presence is so large it takes up the whole room. Junkrat tries to breathe. It doesn’t work.

“Symmetra.” Air finally returns to his lungs, and he breathes her name more than he actually says it. She looks at him for a moment, the heat of her gaze making his suit seem a lot more sweaty than it was just a second ago.

“No one has called me that in years,” Her voice is soft yet measured. Still she refuses to break eye contact. “Jamison, why are you here?”  
A million answers flood his brain at once. I missed you, he wants to say. I needed to see you. Gibraltar hasn’t been the same without you. Roadhog wanted me to come and say hi.

I wanted to take you away from this place, like I should have done three years ago.

“Winston sent me, you know,” The lie rolls off his tongue too easy. “Overwatch wants you back, Sym— Satya. G’day to you too, by the way.” She doesn’t answer him at first. Instead, she closes her eyes and shakes her head, mouthing something inaudible. Then she takes a seat across from him at the table, motioning for him to do so as well. So he does.

“Jamison,” Hearing his name on her lips again feels almost criminal. Not that he minds too much. “Do you remember why I left in the first place? I was needed at Vishkar. My place is here. If Overwatch is truly in need of another architech, perhaps I can arrange for a student—“

“No,” His voice cuts through hers and his tone startles her, looking at him with wide eyes and pursed lips. He tries to recompose himself, to calm down and be rational like he knows she wants him to, and then just thinks… fuck it. “We don’t need another architech, Satya. We need you. You’re the best damn one of the whole lot.” Only now does she look away, casting her gaze towards her hands folded neatly on the table. His heart nearly skips a beat when he realizes her nails are black.

“That is not possible. I have a life here, Jamison. It didn’t just start with Overwatch and ended when I left. I have more important things to do than—“

“Than do what?” He countered. “Saving the damn world?”

“I would appreciate it greatly if you would stop interrupting me,” Her tone is like ice. Again she looks at him, a surprising ferocity in her eyes. “Are you really doing this? Are you really asking me to come back when you were the one who… who…” Her cheeks tinge bright red and Junkrat finds himself somewhat frightened. Seeing her like this was rare. She never let others see her in such a state, not really.

She never finishes her sentence. Instead her hands have balled into fists and she looks into the table, biting at her lower lip. Her brows are knitted tightly together and something inside of him aches at the sight of her. Maybe Mercy’d been right.

“Hey,” He says softly, his hand reaching out for hers. “Hey, I’m sorry, love—“

This time it’s Symmetra who interrupts him. She whips her arm back as though he’s burned her and stands, glaring daggers. He peers up into her face, into the hurt in her eyes, and wonders if he can do anything to fix this. Before in his life he’d never encountered anything he couldn’t fix, or at least make better by putting explosives on it, but… this might be a first.

“Stop,” She commands. She cradles one hand in another. For a moment Junkrat is scared he’d actually burned her somehow. “You do not get to do this, Jamison. You do not get to walk back into my life like nothing ever happened! If Winston truly sent you here, tell him I said no. Tell him I said my loyalties lie with Vishkar. Not with Overwatch, not with him—“ She approaches the door and for a moment she stops to look at him. He realizes only then that she’s been trying not to cry.

“And most certainly not with you.”

Satya disappears behind the door once more, heels clicking in the distance as she makes her getaway. Junkrat simply sits there, slumped into his chair, and wonders how all of this went wrong. He runs a hand through his hair and leans his head back against the wall, fruitlessly hoping the ceiling will provide the answer to making all of this right again. The officer is still here, he notes, and her expression has morphed from one of disdain to one of disbelief.

“What did you do to her?” She demands. A dry, low chuckle sounds from Junkrat’s throat. What did he do, indeed. The answer was far too complicated and there was no way in hell he was explaining any of this to a complete stranger. He’d give her the condensed version, then.

“I broke up with her.”

**Author's Note:**

> so it's been a really long time since i've written any fanfiction, but this pairing has captured my heart in such a way that i just needed to give it a try. special thanks to vargrimar as well, because without them this fic wouldn't have made it past the "wouldn't this be a cool idea" stage. i hope you guys enjoy it! it's gonna be a hell of a long haul.


End file.
